Invictus
by toLockAHeart
Summary: Will Graham is an oddity in his world as much as Rhea Thorton is in her own. Two halves to the same coin. When the two meet, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1: Insanity is Logic

**This is going to begin as three "one-shots" (they're related but not a continuous story). Eventually this will move on to a connected storyline and the whole "Supernatural" (yes, Rhea is special). Sam and Dean will eventually show up, but it will probably be somewhere around Chapter 5ish.**

 **UPDATE as of 8/15/2017 : This story is currently on temporary hiatus as I work on another work that is going to involve Rhea Thorton. The other work will be a Supernatural/Arrow crossover and will take place before this, providing some history and character relationships (such as how the Winchesters met Rhea, a little sneak peak into what she is, and other stuff). So, until that story is complete (it will be a 13-chapter arc), this is going to be put on hold. Sorry. I might add the third chapter of this just to complete the beginning arc/intro, we'll see.**

* * *

 _"Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked."_

 _~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr._

* * *

Rhea counted in her head.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

When she reached ten she waited one second and just as she expected a bell chimed out.

She began again. On until she reached one hundred times.

Then she started over.

When she had done this a hundred more times she started over from the top.

Sets of tens, hundreds, thousands. One after another, repeating. All concentrated on the chime of a bell.

A man silently watched her. Staring at her face as if it could reveal some truth within. As if the passive, firm face would expose. He waited patiently until his phone rang. The man frowned, glancing at the screen again, then answered the phone with a forced "Hello."

A few minutes passed and the man's face shifted from agitation to a nearly primal glee. When he hung up, his voice was cheerful and a grin was on his face.

His eyes turned back to Rhea and the smile deepened.

Yes, this was going to be good.

Will Graham and Rhea Thorton together, under his control.

Luck was certainly on his side.

* * *

"The Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane," Rhea murmured. "The Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane. The Baltimore…" her eyes narrowed and they darted to the door when a loud bang interrupted her, "… Institute for the Criminally Insane." The litany continued even as guards passed her with their purposeful gait, only one or two pausing to glance for barely a few seconds.

It was when a gathering of guards stopped at the square cell next to hers that Rhea lowered her voice and sent a questioning look to Aaron, the only guard who had ever shown her a hint of kindness. His impassive face made her frown and focus on the commotion next to her. Within a few seconds a two more guards were leading a man to the cell next to hers.

With the amount of people who were standing by, Rhea knew that they thought he was a threat. They, of course, were imbeciles.

One glance and she knew that whatever this man had been accused of was a lie. She had been inside too many killers' and sadists' minds to not know a crazy person when she saw one. This man just looked defeated. And full of fury.

The guards carefully put him in the cell and once they were certain everything was settled all but Aaron and one other guard left. The two who remained went to wait by the door.

Rhea snorted and sent an unamused look to one of the cameras Chilton was obviously monitoring them on. If this was an attempt to get her to open up, the doctor was going to be disappointed.

The only person Rhea ever revealed the truth of herself to ended up accusing her of murder. It didn't matter there was no evidence that proved Rhea guilty, all that mattered is that when Dr. Chilton interviewed her he saw evidence of a psychosis so deadly that she was convicted. Now she was here.

"I assume you're new," Rhea broached.

Even if she wasn't going to satisfy Chilton by giving something away, didn't mean she couldn't figure out what made Chilton think that this method was going to work.

"Excuse me?" the man's eyes were quizzical, his head tilted slightly, and an agitation to him that Rhea empathized with.

"I'm assuming you've just arrived. Otherwise we'd have had this conversation already. Chilton isn't someone who keeps the cat in the bag long enough to build anticipation. He's much…" Rhea broke off as a bird screamed outside; her eyes caught its swooping movement and she followed it for a second, memorizing each turn and dive as it beat its wings, "…too pretentious." She turned to the man but whatever amusement she had been hoping to feel vanished when that bird swooped too low and was lost.

"I'm beginning to see that. Will Graham," the man introduced, giving a nod.

"Rhea Thorton."

There was a pause.

"Rhea Thorton as in the serial killer?"

The woman frowned and turned to face Will. "Rhea Thorton as in the girl no one believes. But if you're Will Graham, then you're the boy no one believes. So a greeting is in order. Welcome to the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Convicted and the Reasonably Sane. Not that anyone sees that. Except me. And now you." She shot Will a wink. One he didn't seem to inclined to accept, but Rhea was already looking out the window again; wondering if somewhere, that bird was still flying high, untouched by the sky.

* * *

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeoning of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul

"Invictus" William Ernest Henley


	2. Chapter 2: Weight of Suffering

**On to the next part, this is going to be somewhat "stream-of-conscious" and somewhat "WTF?" Because that's how I roll.**

 **Be sure to drop a review for the drunnies, they're working very hard on the third chapter.**

* * *

 _"I realize that I live on the bubble of insanity. I feel the weight of human suffering, loneliness and despair on me all the time. It's not getting easier; if anything, it's always right on the edge of my skin."_

 _~Erwin McManus_

* * *

The stones captured chill in a way that made Rhea nauseous.

Reminded her of freezing winds biting at her toes and fingers, and burning to her core. A cold that ate at her, paralyzed her into an icy statue that with a single word shattered into a million pieces.

She wondered if Chilton knew this; if he was using this.

Will knew it.

When she woke up one afternoon with the word, "Gheaţă" on her lips he asked what about the cold made her so afraid. Surprisingly, she answered.

"You can't change. It freezes you into something and you're finished. You can't change something when you're stuck. I'm scared that one day, I'll wake up and find that I've been frozen and this person is who I'm always going to be. That I won't be able to escape."

Rhea answered, but not really.

* * *

When Rhea wakes up, starting, breaths coming out in harsh savage gasps, Will starts talking about Winston. This has been a routine of theirs. One of them will wake up, part of them still stuck in a nightmare, and the other will begin talking. It's about trivial, meaningless things, but its an anchor. A beacon they can latch onto and follow until their feet are on ground as solid as their mental state. Most of the time its Will speaking. It didn't take him long to realize that somewhere between discovering she was different and it becoming her sin, Rhea broke in a way people aren't meant to.

She drowns everything out, his voice surrounding her and soothing the harsh edges of panic that never seem to fade now.

"I'm afraid," she whispers. Her voice catches and a tear slides down her cheek. "I'm afraid that they're right. That my whole life I've been living a lie and I will never accept it because if I did, what would that mean of me? I've been running my whole life, but what if I've been running from myself? I'm terrified."

Will is silent. It's something that Rhea admires and appreciates about the man. He will never answer her questions right away. He takes the time to think and muse until he's found an answer that is as honest and introspective as it can be.

"Do you really think that what you're running from is yourself?"

"I don't know," Rhea whispers. And that's it. That's what terrifies her. She doesn't really know what she's running from, what she's so afraid of. All she knows is that this fear, this panic, is all she has and without it she'll fly away in the wind, dust to cover the earth.

"Then why are you so afraid of yourself?" Will asks. His voice is calm, but there's a tremor in there that reveals he isn't just talking about her. Maybe he's talking to himself too.

There's not much Rhea can do, but she gives the truth. At least a piece of it.

 _"_ _I'm running._

 _Legs pumping as I flee the thing chasing me, attempting to strike me down. Around me the trees reach up in ethereal splendor. The forest would be idyllic, even peaceful if it wasn't for the full-blown_ terror _coursing through my veins._

 _To my right is someone else. A man. Pushing himself as hard and as fast as I am. I don't think either of us knows what we're running from, just that if we slow down, for even a second, everything is over._

 _So we run._

 _Trees blurring, vines grabbing. If we trip we push ourselves up and just run harder. We can't fall behind. We can't stop. We can't be caught._

 _Finally, we hear it. The roaring sound that means a waterfall is up ahead. For the first time, hope is kindled._

 _We push forward harder, faster._

 _There!_

 _Up ahead a river flows into a waterfall that I can never see the bottom of. If there are rocks, or the pool below is shallow, I don't know. I can't care. This is the only way to escape. I must jump._

 _I turn to see my companion, but his face is always blurry. I don't know him, but I know he understands what I do._

 _We must run. We must jump. We must survive._

 _We reach the water, and our legs tense. We jump._

 _This is always where I wake up. Right before I take that final leap, or just before I hit the water._

 _If I survive, I don't know._

 _What I'm running from, I don't know._

 _Who runs beside me, I don't know._

 _All I do know, is that every time I wake up, that fear doesn't leave._

 _Because what I'm running from, isn't just in my dreams."_

If Rhea is crying and Will's jaw is locked neither of them say it. There's too much they could admit to and not enough to heal it.

* * *

Chilton wanted Will to break Rhea. Or at least chip away at enough of her that when he bore into her with predatory eyes, waiting to lap up her brokenness for his own advancement, she would shatter. He should have been prepared for Will to strengthen her. Give her a strength in her core that spread throughout her body. Made her angry. Made her powerful.

Instead of breaking her, Will believed in her. He gave her a trust that no one else ever did, and that made her untouchable.

When Chilton was done with her she went back to her cell feeling beaten and bloody.

Will probed quietly, ensuring that whatever that thoughtless doctor tried to make her believe was brushed off.

Not long ago, the words would have dug into her skin, burying themselves in her flesh and worming their way into her mind. Her body. Her soul. Her eyes would be imprinted with the fear that what was right was wrong and that her truths were reality's lies.

Will Graham came like a violent wind. Ripped the lies from her lungs and horror from her blood. The gale settled and Rhea still stood. Glowing, bright, unbreakable.

She wasn't certain if Will knew what he had done. That when Rhea woke each day that cloying, nauseating fear was becoming less and less.

Chilton tried to destroy her, and Will eventually preserved her.

And Rhea still stood.

Even bloody, even bent, even beaten, she stood.

And she was surviving.


End file.
